The Outtake in the Adjective
by nattylovesjordy
Summary: Booth loves everything about her, especially how inspiring she is. Outtakes from my current story "Love and Twenty Six Adjectives." Romance, humor, angst, and typical B&B ridiculousness.
1. Jinxed

_**Author's Note:** This is the first outtake of "Love and Twenty Six Adjectives!" I've had some fully fleshed out chapters written that I decided to replace, but then I realized I didn't want the discarded chapters going to complete waste, especially when I kind of like them. So, I decided to start this story. __This one is more of a peace offering for the angsty chapter in the main story. I couldn't leave you hanging like that over the weekend, so I wrote this. I hope you enjoy it._

_If you haven't read "Love and Twenty Six Adjectives," the main/original story, you should! Just kidding (sort of). All you need to know is that it's a series of one-shots based off random adjectives. There's romance, there's humor, there's angst... you get the picture. _

**_Setting:_**_ Sometime before Zack goes all Gormogon on us in the S3 finale. (In other words, there isn't a corresponding episode/time, although it involves Wong Foo's from S1, AND even though the Nationals are actually playing the Phillies this weekend in a three-day series). _

**_Last Thing, Promise:_**_ I cannot make any promises about this, but, if you have ideas or specific words you'd like to see written, I'll take them into consideration and see if anything jumps out at me. I'm not good at writing fiction when I'm instructed or pressured to, but if one of you suggests something and I end up writing it, and it doesn't fit into the regular story, I'll post it here!_

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><p><strong>Jinxed<br>**_Having bad luck or misfortune; cursed._

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><p>He was feeling all kinds of sick. His head was pulsing beneath his touch, let alone scorching his fingers. Whenever he opened his eyes, the light practically blinded him and made his head feel worse. His entire body was covered in sweat, and he was so sore and exhausted he could barely move.<p>

He shouldn't have gone against Sid—he should've eaten whatever Sid would have brought instead of ordering the chicken dish he thought he was craving. He knew better, and now he was jinxed because of it.

When he saw the green lights of his clock, he groaned. He had been waiting weeks to get the chance to call into a local radio station to win tickets to the Washington Nationals vs. Philadelphia Phillies game for this Saturday. Today, the Wednesday before the game, was the last chance. But because of the fever apparently he had, he slept through the better part of the morning, and alarm, and missed his last chance.

His disappointment was only worsened by his sick state.

He barely made it to the toilet before he threw up. Sitting with his head hovering above the porcelain bowl was not how he expected to spend his morning. He had envisioned walking into the lab with an extra bounce in his step, making people ask why he was particularly chipper. Then, with a grin on his face, he would adjust his belt buckle and boast about winning.

The stomach flu was nowhere in his daydreams.

Bummed about the tickets, and too sick to move, he took the day off. Bones had called him once to see if he needed anything, but he insisted he just wanted to sleep and promised to stay hydrated.

Luckily, it was one of those "twenty-four hour flus," and he was back at work the following day. Before he went to his office, he stopped by the lab to have the squints fill him in on what he'd missed.

Hodgins had wanted nothing to do with him and his germs, Zack didn't seem to notice he hadn't been there the day before, and Cam had nothing for him but a "glad to see you're feeling better." After visiting those three, he forewent Angela's office and headed to Brennan's. She wasn't weary of any remaining germs, already knew he had been gone a day, and had more to say than Cam.

He sat across from her at her desk and waited for her to finish her task. When she was done, she closed the laptop and smiled at him. "You still look a little flushed," she observed.

"I'm fine," he nonchalantly replied. "I shouldn't have had the chicken."

Brennan nodded and searched through her drawers. When she didn't find what she was looking for in her desk, she grabbed her purse and looked there. He sat and watched as she ruffled around in her bag with curiosity. Before she pulled anything out, she looked up at him with sympathy in her eyes. "I'm sorry you didn't get the tickets to your game this weekend."

He shrugged. He was definitely disheartened that he didn't win them, but he would live. "Maybe next time, I guess."

Finally, she pulled out a white envelope and handed it to Booth. When he didn't take it, she dropped it on his lap.

With an eyebrow quirked, he tore open the envelope saw tickets to this Saturday's game. With a huge smile, he stood up and went to her side of the desk. "You didn't," he said, his tone light and amused.

She too stood up and smiled at him. In a serious tone, she replied, "I didn't." He looked at her confused, again, but was soon distracted when she pulled out lanyards with special passes hanging on them. "I bought the tickets. When they heard who I was they gave me dugout box seats and a special media pass so I could meet the team."

His eyes widened as she handed him the lanyards. "There's three," he stated, the shock keeping him from forming long sentences.

"I was unsure about how many tickets you would win and how many people you would go with. I figured you and Parker could go with a friend."

He shook his head. "No way. You're coming with us." His day was automatically looking up with the prospect of spending a Saturday afternoon with his beautiful best friend and son with some of the most expensive seats in the house. Let alone the possibility of meeting some of the players.

"I think I would find that quite enjoyable," she answered with a grin.

After finalizing plans and agreeing to meet up later for lunch, Booth walked out of the lab with a huge smile and that jaunty step he had imagined. Maybe eating against Sid hadn't jinxed him after all.


	2. Kind Hearted

**_Author's Note:_**_ Here's the second outtake! Thanks for reviewing the first one and following this story as well! You all rock!_

**_Setting:_**_ Irrelevant, except for Sweets' presence. Surprise there._

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><p><strong>"Kind-Hearted"<br>**_Sympathetic, friendly, gentle, tenderhearted, and generous, but with a more personal sentiment, as though you are very close to the person you are describing._

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><p>It had been a long day. Booth had chased two men down alleys after a mile hike to the crime scene. That added to his sleepless night and he was physically spent, and when he was tired <em>and<em> hungry, he tended to get a little testy. Interrogating a suspect who gets a kick out of playing games was the final straw.

The remains of Julian Peterson, a seven year old boy, had been found by a pair of campers a mile from the nearby campgrounds. His sister, the four year old Lily Peterson, was missing. The parents had last seen both children speaking to one of the campground's groundskeepers.

He and Brennan tried for almost two hours to get something helpful out of him. His gut told him the groundskeeper, Simon Bakken, was guilty. It was all over his smug smile, evident by how he sat back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest. He was as cocky as to waive his right to an attorney.

In this situation, Booth knew that anything he did would only fuel the man's fire. Cordiality was becoming a challenge for Booth, which Simon picked up on. Anger would only make the man laugh, but he was losing the battle to remain calm. He was tired, emotionally and physically, damnit. The involvement of children only made it worse.

"Look, it would be easier if you're straight with us. There's a little girl missing, a girl afraid of the dark who can't sleep without a night-light," Booth tried. Anything to get Simon to give up a clue about the girl's location, even if it meant painting disturbing pictures.

The son of a bitch chuckled, "It does get awfully dark in the woods. Sorry I can't do anything to help."

Booth slammed his hands flat on the metal table. There was a girl out there on her own and the smug piece of scum laughs. He had to start pacing before he punched anyone.

Brennan quickly caught onto his anger and stood from her chair. Catching his eye, she placed her hand on his arm, silently telling him to leave. It took time for the warmth of her touch to calm him, but she eventually saw his jaw loosen and sadness pass over his features instead of anger. She had to be the cold one. As she led Booth out, she turned towards the suspect and sternly warned him. "I'll be right back."

A defeated Booth joined Sweets in the adjoining room. Brennan turned to leave, but Booth grabbed her arm and spun her around. "You're not going in there alone." His words came out more as a plea than a command. He wanted to protect her, to keep the man in there from getting any form of satisfaction from being alone with a beautiful woman. His eyes highlighted his desperation.

She and Sweets disagreed with Booth. The smile Simon had on his face when she rejoined him made Booth sick, but she was able to compartmentalize. She asked him a mundane question she already knew the answer to—a learned interrogation technique. "How much do you weigh, Mr. Bakken?"

Simon smiled and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Not as much as your partner, but what I lack in some areas, I do not lack in others." Brennan caught the meaning of his words, but chose not to reply. In turn, Simon continued talking. "I had a girl, once. Treated her right. She was fairly pretty, though not as much as you. However, she was weak like you, needed someone big and strong to take care of her, like me or your partner."

Brennan once again ignored his comments to keep him talking, something else she had picked up from the men on the other side of the glass. But, the comments did not completely go unnoticed.

"See, we're a lot alike, me and Special Agent Booth. We both like pretty women and clearly have a temper. But do you know the difference? I would never harm an innocent child."

Brennan stood from her chair and leaned over the table, her palms supporting her weight. "Booth is _not_ a monster. He does _not_ violently murder and dismember children, like you did to Julian Peterson. He would _never _kidnap an innocent little girl and do who knows what to her. That man, my partner, is the most kind-hearted man I've ever known. You know the real difference? He's the man you are not. He is doing everything he possibly can to save a child while you sit here and puff out your hairs to try and _look_ like a man."

In the other room, Brennan's words did not escape Booth. He knew that she would never use an anatomically incorrect adjective if she did not mean it. The sentiment warmed his kind heart and made him gulp at the underlying serious implications. A small smirk played on his lips, greatened when she got another idiom wrong.

When she came busting into the room, clearly frustrated herself, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her straight to the elevators. "What about some pie, Bones? My treat." His voice was light to distract her. He knew what she needed, as always, and even though he wasn't hungry and was in a fowl mood himself, he would attempt to get her to eat pie and cheer her up.

Brennan ignored the offer. "There is a small girl missing and he thinks it's _funny_."

"I know," Booth agreed, pulling her closer to him. "And we'll find her." Their eyes met as they entered the elevator. Like he had done earlier, she relaxed with his closeness. "I promise," he gently concluded, and she nodded.

They were partners, best friends, and yet so much more; they were exactly what the other needed.


	3. Momentary

_**Author's Note:** I didn't feel like this was fully fleshed out enough for it to be anything but a legit outtake, or deleted scene, but I liked the idea. So, here it is!_

**_Setting:_**_ During and after the S4 finale. _

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><p><strong>Momentary<br>**_Lasting but a moment; very brief; fleeting: __a momentary glimpse._

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><p>When he woke up, bright lights were shining in his eyes. He was aware that he was speaking, but everything was hazy and he couldn't tell what he was saying. The last thing he remembered was discovering he was going to have a child with his gorgeous wife. The lights weren't harsh in that room, and he wasn't alone, but in this room the lights were blinding and nobody was with him.<p>

Then, he saw her face. She was talking to him, too, but he couldn't focus on her words. He couldn't place what was different, but she didn't look quite the same.

Glimpses of what he thought were his last few days flashed in his head. Waking up next to her, the ups and downs of the murder investigation, their playful banter, everything. But the way she was looking at him just didn't add up.

"It felt so real," he heard himself repeating. Finally fully conscious, he looked at her and asked, "Who are you?"

Her response told him that brief life that lasted but a moment wasn't his life at all. But it still felt painfully real.

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><p>He doesn't remember what he said to make her laugh. When he saw her lips part in a smile, his mind was transported elsewhere. The grin she giving him reminded him of another time… of a whole other life. It brought him back to their bedroom when she joined him early that morning.<p>

Images of her face hovering over his with that smile filled his mind. His senses were consumed with the memory of the feeling of her body on his, of the words that fell from her lips before they met his own. He could almost smell her all over again. His body tingled where she had placed her hands.

It felt so real when he first woke up, and it doesn't feel any less real as he sits across from her at the diner.

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><p>He vaguely hears her chatter as they drive in his SUV. The Sequoia is nothing like their sleek sports car, but their conversation is. She's saying something about making a dynamic and effective team, but he hears her saying how interesting of a couple they are.<p>

She continues talking, saying things about how they are successful not only for their own personal strengths, but because of how great of a team they have backing them up. Booth hears her talk about how much their employees love them and are sacrificing for them.

They're having two completely separate conversations, and one is real, but he can't quite distinguish which.

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><p>The next time he feels as if he is reliving his coma dream is when she finds him waiting for her in his office. He's sitting in a chair, but before he knows it, he has no clue why he was there. He doesn't notice her walking to her desk and opening her laptop. Instead, he watches her ghost saunter over to him with a hint of a grin.<p>

He imagines himself looking up at her with a lopsided smile of his own before opening his arms for her. His chest, lap, and neck suddenly feel hot, as if there is another person sitting on him. The feeling of her arms wrapped around his neck and her forehead resting on his is so strong, he actually stands up.

He left the office without answering Brennan's concerned questions. He couldn't bear to hear the next words from his trance and not have them be true when he "woke up" again.

Everything he was experiencing were fleeting glimpses of the life they lived in his dream, and every time he couldn't help but long for them to return.


	4. Urgent

_**Author's Note:** Another outtake! I think I might actually like this one as much as the real chapter, which is a first. _

**_Setting:_**_ Booth and Brennan are in an established relationship. Sorry for spoiling it for you—not. It's not really cannon-y, so it doesn't matter when this takes place. It just does. Well, except for the fact that the interns exist and that it was before the S6 finale... oh whatever. If you can't tell by now, I really don't like pinning things down._

**_Synopsis:_**_ Four times when Booth claims he urgently needs Bones, and one when he actually does._

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><p><strong>Urgent<br>**_Requiring immediate action; pressing, imperative._

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><p>He was waiting for Bones to finish up whatever she was doing so they could head back to Interrogation where a suspect was waiting for them. He was simply sitting in Brennan's office, playing Tetris on his phone all by himself, when Vincent Nigel-Murray walked in and interrupted his peace and quiet.<p>

He also distracted him and stopped Booth from beating his high score, which the gun-bearing FBI agent did not appreciate in the slightest.

In typical Vincent fashion, he invaded Booths' space and started babbling about Tetris.

"Did you know that Tetris originated from the Soviet Union," he asked in that high-pitched British accent of his. Vincent sat on the couch next to Booth and peered over his shoulder at the screen. "Each of those shapes are called tetrominoes and are designed based on the letters I, J, L, O, S, T, and Z."

Booth glared at the budding scientist, but Vincent failed to notice. As he started babbling facts about brain productivity and Tetris world records, Booth got up from the couch and exited out of the game.

Discreetly, he texted Brennan, _SOS—SAVE ME!_

Within moments, Brennan came flying through the door of her office, rubber gloves still on her hands.

Before she could say anything and spoil his lie, Booth clapped his hands together and quickly strode to the door. "Looks like Bones found something," he lied as he guided her out of the room.

Once they were far enough away, they stopped walking. "Thanks for saving me."

She crossed her arms. "There was no reason for you to text me as if you were in danger, Booth," she reprimanded.

Booth nodded his head and promised to never do it again. What he was really thinking was how hot it was to be scolded by the sexy professor.

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><p>If he had to choose one thing he really didn't like about working for the FBI, and it couldn't be the horrible coffee, it would be partner-less therapy sessions, hands down. (<em>Well, maybe just the therapy sessions in general<em>, he corrected).

Presently, Sweets was blabbering on and on about chemicals in the brain and a whole bunch of other scientific terms Booth didn't care about. If he wanted to be lectured, all he had to do was follow Brennan around for about two minutes and she would also be talking up a scientific storm.

Booth had simply said was that he thought Brennan might have secretly started liking pie. Cue Sweets' psycho-nonsense.

Impatient with Sweets' speech and the session as a whole, Booth couldn't sit still. He kept shifting his position or bouncing his legs. Eventually, he crossed his legs to hide his phone and texted Brennan.

This time, the text read, _Sweets wants to meet. Be here in ten?_

When she walked in the door, Booth swore she was an angel sent from God himself. Her cheeks were flushed, evidence that she had been rushing, and her eyes looked alive in hopes that she wasn't late.

Booth looked back and smiled. "Heya Bones." Sweets started to greet her and ask why she had come, but Booth interrupted him. Turning back to the baby duck of a psychologist, he said with a grin, "Well, looks like we gotta jet, Sweets."

Just as quickly as last time, he got Brennan out of the room and closed the door, leaving behind a very confused Booth.

Brennan wasn't having any of his nonsense. "You're doing it again."

Booth knew he was caught but tried to feign innocence. He threw on his most charming smile and asked, "Doing what, Bones?"

She grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around, and marched him back into Sweets' office like a mother sending her child back to the principal's office. After explaining Booth's attempted jailbreak, Brennan and Sweets both agreed Booth would have to stay for the duration of his appointment. In other words, Booth was sentenced for another forty-three minutes of pure torture.

In his book, she owed him big time.

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><p>With a flourish, he slid his card and went up the steps of the platform. "Good afternoon Bones, Fisher," he greeted in his "Bri'ish" accent, rubbing his palms together.<p>

Brennan briefly looked up from the femur she was studying to look at him, but quickly resumed her observations without uttering a word.

Fisher, on the other hand, was a bit chattier. "It's really not," Fisher started. Sighing, he added. "The word 'good' implies that life is progressing nicely. Today, however, is not. How depressing, that a single person cannot have a decent moment in a single day."

Booth's eyebrows shot up but he didn't reply. After an awkward moment, he turned back to his partner. "We have somewhere to be. Right now."

Brennan shook her head. "I'm not done cataloging all of the injuries, Booth."

"Don't care, let's go. Chop chop."

After setting down the femur, she took off her gloves and started walking to her office to grab her coat. As they walked, she asked, "What's so time sensitive?"

Booth patted his stomach. "I'm hungry, and you owe me lunch for putting Sweets on me." She stopped buttoning her coat mid-button and glared at him. Rolling her eyes, she started to take the coat back off, and walked to her office.

"Hey, wait a second," he called as she left the office to return to the platform. "It's important! I haven't eaten in two and a half hours!"

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><p>It was a little after six in the morning when she got the phone call. She and Booth were supposed to have the day off from cases because he had a lecture to give in Quantico. The early phone call made her think maybe a more pressing case had come up.<p>

She wasn't even close.

"Bones," he said, not even bothering to use any polite greeting. "I need you at my apartment as soon as you can get here. It's urgent."

He sounded fairly distressed, which worried Brennan. Hurriedly, she sat up in bed. "Booth? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, just hurry," was his reply before he hung up.

Truly concerned, she quickly grabbed a jacket and slipped her feet into warm boots before rushing to her car. The roads were icy, but Booth sounded like he was in trouble. If she didn't care about showing up in sweats, a t-shirt, and college sweatshirt, she certainly didn't care enough about the road conditions or speed limits.

She didn't even bother to knock. Instead, she kicked the door down like he taught her and called out his name. Caught off-guard, Booth emerged from his bedroom in his boxers and white dress shirt, two ties slung over his arm. Both of their faces showed shock.

"Which tie do you think I should wear today?"

Catching her breath, she grimaced and took a few steps closer. "You woke me up, and implied you were in real danger, to ask me which tie you should wear," she stated. It wasn't a question.

Booth nodded and held out the ties. "I thought it might be best to look professional, so I dug this plain black one out, but I feel stuffy in it. I feel more like myself in the one with purple and blue stripes. It's flashy."

His hopeful tone erased the annoyance she was feeling towards him. Softly, she picked up the brightly colored tie and draped it around his neck. Avoiding his eyes, she helped him tie it and get it perfectly center.

She didn't consider helping Booth chose his wardrobe as a pressing matter, but for the moment, she was going to ignore it. When he returned from his trip, however, she would give him her guidelines as to what, exactly, constituted as an emergency.

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><p>If she was being completely honest, she almost ignored his most recent text message altogether. Lately, he had been calling and texting her left and right claiming there was something critical she was needed for. Springing him from a session with Sweets or going to lunch was not an emergency like he seemed to think it was. So when she saw he had texted her to meet him at his apartment as soon as she could, she ignored his request.<p>

But then, she suddenly felt the need to go. Call it a gastrointestinal feeling, or the fact that she had nothing better to do, but within fifteen minutes of receiving his text, Brennan found herself gathering her stuff to head to Booth's apartment.

She was welcomed at the door by a relaxed Booth. As she stepped into his apartment, he took off her coat and ushered her to his couch where a bottle of wine was decanting. After she sat down, and he handed her a glass, she asked, "What was so imperative that you needed me here right away?"

Booth sat down next to her and shrugged. In one hand he held his own glass of wine, and with the other he rested his hand on her knee. "I missed you."

Brennan grinned. "People are going to start calling you the boy who cried lion if you keep telling me everything is urgent."

"Wolf, Bones. The boy who cried wolf," he laughed. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Booth questioned, "Can't a guy miss his best friend and need to see her?"

She set her wine down and leaned closer to him, her lips inches from his. "If that's all we were," she answered in a seductive tone.

He pressed his smiling lips to hers, forgetting about the lasagna he had in the oven… which ended up leading to one very burning call to the fire department.


	5. Vapid

**_Author's Note:_**_ _This chapter is borderline cracky, but not quite. _I don't think crack-fics belong in this fandom which is why this is an outtake even though I don't consider it a crack-fic. Thanks to those who followed me here from "Love and Twenty-Six Adjectives!"_

**_Outtake News: _**_This is the only outtake I am posting for V today. I have another one in the works, but it's not finished and I didn't want to post three chapters at once. So, if I get it written all the way, I will post the second V-outtake at another time. Hopefully it will come before the Z-outtake I have. We'll see. _

_**IMPORTANT: **Incase this confuses you, everything that is italic is what is "going on" in Booth's head/his thoughts. There's quite a bit of italic "dialogue." That's mostly Booth pretending to be Brennan._

**_Setting:_**_ Irrelevant. Almost anytime after Sweets enters the picture, or not. You chose. (I sure do seem to default to Sweets a lot, huh?)_

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><p><strong>Vapid<br>**_Without liveliness or spirit; dull or tedious: __a vapid party; vapid conversation._

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><p><em>I have no idea why I agreed to this<em>, he thought as he drew spirals on his knee with his finger. _If I don't like listening to their squint talk at work, why would I want to listen to it during my free time?_

Brennan and the other members of the Jeffersonian had been invited by Boston University to give a series of guest lectures on their research and work. Cam was giving a lecture on poisons and what not, Hodgins on his bugs and particulates, and Angela on her various software programs. Brennan, their honored guest, was giving a lecture on her job, like the rest of them, and also on one of her recently published studies.

Brennan was especially excited for the trip. It had been so long since she had met with other people in her field or given a lecture with her coworkers. Booth, while completely uninterested in the subject matter, was also happy for her. Seeing her so excited over something was infectious.

Because of his support, when she asked him if he wanted to come along, and after Angela mentioned something about being treated to baseball tickets, Booth decided to join them on their trip.

The hotel they were staying in was luxurious, and they had found some great bars, but now he was stuck inside all day while they all rambled on about how gaylussacia brachycera had once helped solve a case and how syxamenthonium chloride is used in murders.

By the time Brennan got to lecture, which was late in the afternoon, Booth was completely done with hearing about science. He tried to pay attention, tried to pick out words he recognized, but soon gave up. Her enthusiasm was obvious, but this time it wasn't enough to raise his spirits.

Her talk was boring. After a while, her voice sounded monotone and flat. See seemed to go on and on in her didactic tone like the teacher in the Peanuts cartoons. To entertain himself, he decided to mentally make her say what he wanted her to say.

As she pointed to an x-ray, he imagined her saying, _"And here is an invisible microwave fracture on the psychosemantal bone that nobody can see except me because I'm amazing."_

Then, she changed the powerpoint slide. On the screen, an image of the skull popped up. _"Here is x-ray of Snooki. This bump on the top of her head is what causes her hair to look like a giant wave."_

He continued to make up fake stories for all of the pictures she showed until she begun talking about her involvement with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Booth sat forward in his seat, relieved to finally hear stuff he understood.

He kept listening, waiting for her to bring up her amazing partner who is the best in his field, who is a phenomenal shot, and has great gut instincts. When she didn't mention him within the first ten minutes, he slouched back in his chair and went back to drawing imaginary shapes on his knee.

Then he heard the word 'psychology.' "Our work at the Medico-Legal lab of the Jeffersonian Institute goes beyond pure science. We work hand-in-hand with agents from the FBI who perform other forms of investigating. They also often use psychologists and profilers to help them solve a case. However, there is not a great amount of scientific…"

Booth stopped listening. He'd heard her "psychology is a soft science" speech too many times, and decided to alter it.

In his best smarty-pants voice, he mocked Brennan. _"I concede that many people consider psychology a valid science, but I cannot see how that is so when there are twelve year olds practicing it. Dr. Sweets, a psychologist for the FBI, has not yet gone through puberty and therefore cannot know nearly enough to hold a Ph.D._

"_As the baby duck with over-sized lips that he is, there is no way that what he says can be valid. After all, Sweets makes my astounding partner and I, Seeley Booth, play silly children's games to study us._

"_Because he is an adolescent, he cannot understand the concept of two adults of opposite genders being friends and working together in a purely professional capacity. He still believes girls have 'cooties,' as he calls them, and believes that if a guy is not adverse to a girl's cooties, then he obviously must have a sexual relationship with them."_

Booth paused from his inner dialogue to hear what Brennan was actually saying. She had started talking about how she helps dictate what the FBI needs to look for. _You're not the only important one_, he thought.

He decided to give himself credit where due. _"While I am highly valuable, my expertise is rarely what closes the case. Instead, it is my partner's intuition and remarkable investigation skills that really solves a murder. Agent Booth is the best interrogator I know. He can crack a suspect like an egg. One little push and crack, everything spills._

_"His great gut is even more impressive. Before Booth, I thought it was ludicrous to believe that one's gut could think. But, he has proved me wrong, something he does quite often even though I would never admit it to him. Booth trusts his gut to tell him what to do and it has proven invaluable to our investigations."_

She had started talking about her process, or something, but Booth decided to continue having his imaginary Brennan give him high praises.

_"As a matter of fact, I must give all of the credit to Booth. He is the best partner that anybody could ever ask for. He protects me, has the coolest socks, and likes pie. Secretly, I like pie, too, and it's all because of Booth._

_"Why don't you join me in standing and giving Special Agent Booth a big round of applause!"_

Booth started clapping and bowing. When the room fell silent, he looked around at the people staring at him. Brennan had even stopped lecturing, which he knew meant he was in for a mouthful.

Angela, Hodgins, and Cam were staring at him from their seats on stage with confused looks on their faces. Brennan glared.

"Bones, are you done yet?" Booth stood up and walked towards the platform. "I could really go for some pie."

The people around him started whispering, wondering why he called her Bones. Some of the psychology students in the room began theorizing about the sexual component of pie in the relationship between the two.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this isn't the time for questions," one of the hosts interjected.

Cam shot him a look that instructed him to sit back in his seat. Once he was seated, Brennan cleared her throat and ignored him. "As I was saying…"

_Great, _he thought. _Here we go again._


	6. Zealous

_**Author's Note:** Some of you thought our time with Adjectives was over. How wrong you were. Nah, it is, after this one. I said I had another V outtake, but it's requiring a LOT more research than I planned, so I'm going to use that towards the next series... Yes, the next series. Which I've already begun working on. _

_Thank you to everyone for reviewing, adding this to your subscription and favorite list. It means a lot._

**_Setting:_**_ After the S6 finale "The Change in the Game." Any spoilers are irrelevant because I don't write off of them._

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><p><strong>Zealous<br>**_Full of, characterized, or due to zeal; ardently active and devoted._

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><p>He thinks she's adorable. He would never use that adjective to her face, but it's what he thinks. Hot, sexy, beautiful, gorgeous—those are words he gives her, but sometimes he thinks she's just so damn <em>cute.<em>

She gets this little smirk on her face and her eyes shine. She would say the grin was really a look of concentration, and her shiny eyes were a result of extra liquid in her tear ducts because of the bright lights of the lab reflecting off of the metal exam tables. He knows better, though. She can spin her science talk all she wants, but he knows better.

It's always so clear how excited discoveries make her. Even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to disguise her triumph. She gives off this air of accomplishment and pride, but never in a rude, cocky way. Her checks become tinted pink and she always has this big smirk on her face. Booth loves that she hasn't become completely jaded and calloused or burned out by their work and can still feel good about solving cases.

He jovial laugh when she thinks she's made a funny, scientific joke is one of his favorite sounds. It's followed by a laughing explanation and her biggest grin. Any other person, except Parker, and he would tell them their explanation killed it, but he hates raining on her excitement.

Even though he has no real interest in anthropology, science, or "bone stuff," all of her cute personality traits make him want to learn everything about all of her subjects so he can share her immense passion. They are all "her areas," and like Gordon-Gordon once said, he needs to allow her that and know his limits within them.

Then he sees her smile or hears her chuckle and he wants to impress her. For so long he played the role of "dumb" FBI agent to let her feel smart and to let her teach him. Now, he wants to show her everything he's learned and make her as proud of him as he is of her.

And so he started studying. Wendell had been more than willing to explain specific bone stuff to him and Cam had helped explain the rest. She was giving a special lecture to graduate students at the end of the month and he wanted to be ready. Cam asked Brennan for her speaking notes and outline, and without him asking, gave and translated them for Booth.

Now, as he watches her speak, completely enamored by her presence and air, he is thankful Cam gave him the outline. The moment he saw her walk up to the podium, his breathing hitched. From then on, he heard nothing she said. He was too focused on the glint in her eyes and the subtle twitch of the corner of her lips. Though her top was flawy, his knowledgeable eyes could detect the slightest bump on her abdomen. All of it entrances him.

Even though all eyes were on her and everyone was fascinated with her revolutionary techniques and what not, Booth was glad he was in the dark back corner so she wouldn't catch him staring.

Bones of the skeleton still don't entertain him, more so now that he was given a crash course, but she does. He won't start listening to her squint talk, and he will go back to requiring a "Dummies" version of everything she says, but for now he isn't that guy. When the time for questions came up, he let a few serious students ask questions before he raised his own hand.

When he stood, memorized question at the forefront of his thoughts, he smiled and saw her look of surprise. It didn't show to anyone else, but he saw it. With a cocky grin and one hand cupping his belt buckle, he asked his very well thought out, intelligent sounding question.

He watched an added surprise and the familiar look of concentration flash over her features before she launched herself into a lengthy reply. When she was done speaking, they both had satisfied smiles on their faces.

She gathered her papers and excused herself, eager to meet Booth. For starters, she was still slightly shocked to see him there, let alone with a question that implied he understood what she had lectured on. She found herself filled with questions of her own.

"What are you doing here," she asked in a tone that implied both curiosity and pleasure.

He smiled and told her the entire truth. He told her how beautiful she is and how she looks when she speaks about something she is passionate about. He told her how her enthusiasm is infectious and how it has always made him want to learn "her stuff" so he could share in her moments with her. He told her how she makes him want to be a better man, and be more like her.

She tried to dispute his last statement, claiming she is nobody that anyone should try to be in a personal capacity, especially him, but he forced her to see herself in a better light, in the light he sees her in. Yes, she has her faults and makes her mistakes, but time after time she has proven to him that she can do the right things.

She's beautiful, hot, sexy, adorable, cute, intelligent, and completely able to change, and he is in love with all of her.


End file.
